


An Ending, A Beginning

by joufancyhuh



Series: Starkhaven's Finest [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, NonInquisitor Trevelyan, Rylen isn't Knight Captain yet, Starkhaven Circle, Templar Trevelyan, aftermath of the Starkhaven fire, break-up, but is it a break-up if they were never together?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 22:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21064382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: This, she wanted to say, this was why she requested the transfer. That whatever silenced his tongue and made him look like her leaving hurt him, that wasn’t what she signed on for.





	An Ending, A Beginning

Evelyn ducked into the armory tent with the report the Knight-Commander gave her to fill out. She walked the length of the small tent with the clipboard in one hand, marking down what weapons the templars under her required to make the trip. She didn’t want to take too much away from the ailing Circle, especially when the Kirkwall Circle had the wealth to spare. Duty, however, dictated that some of the materials needed to go with them, given the escorting of the mages who stayed behind as well as the increase in capacity in Kirkwall. Starkhaven would need to make due with whatever she deemed unnecessary.

This was why she hated being in charge. What did she know about any of this? The position only came to her because she turned the paperwork in beforehand to leave. Surely, there were others more qualified to do this than herself, others who didn’t happen to apply for a transfer the week before the Circle burned down. Dirty, rotten luck all around. 

She chewed on her lip as she counted the shields her company required for the week long trip, along with calculating the amount of lyrium to bring. Should she include the mages in her configurations? What if they ran into bandits and needed the mages to act? But giving mages lyrium while a large group stood out in the open could spell trouble. She should try to remember that they did not attempt to run in the chaos of the fire, and that any additional freedoms granted to them would likely end with them staying docile and complacent. 

Her concentration on the paper didn’t shift even when the tent flap rustled behind her. Figuring it to be the Knight-Captain sent to check her progress, she waited for the questions to follow. Boots crunched to the spot right behind her, but only an uneasy silence greeted her. Deciding the Knight-Captain attempted to read the report over her shoulder, she held it up for the other woman to see. Still, no sound. Maybe she filled the paperwork out wrong and she was critiquing it, writing a mental report to relay back to the Knight-Commander. As much of a relief to have this responsibility taken from her, she couldn’t let it go without a fight. 

“I don’t see too much trouble coming from the mages who will be making the trip to Kirkwall, so I’ve been keeping our supply list on the light side to make sure you’ll still be able to operate here. But if you think that’s a miscalculation on my part and we can spare some of the supplies, then I’ll rewrite the numbers.” 

And yet, still no sound from behind her. She whirled around, ready to ask what she did wrong, and bumped into Rylen’s chest. Clutching one side of the clipboard, she used her other hand to tuck her quill behind her ear. “Oh, it’s you.” Stepping around him, she moved onto the next portion of the checklist, food and bed supplies. But Rylen standing there, not saying a word, made it difficult to focus on her tasks.

“Why are you here? Come to annoy me one last time?”

He continued to stare in her direction, piercing blue eyes vacant as the expression on his face. 

She scowled, bringing her clipboard back up to press into her breastplate. “Now you’re being extra creepy. Say something or get out, would you? I can’t concentrate with you staring at me like that.” 

He moved toward her, back into her space. A low growl escaped her throat as she reached out to shove at his shoulder. “Not now, Clachair. I can’t do this with you anymore.” But he planted himself in front of her, working to remove his greaves. The blank look in his eyes replaced itself with a spark of determination as he fought to free his hands. The gloves fell to the ground with a clang, an echo of each other as they hit the dirt at their feet.

Her mouth opened to tell him off, to inquire as to why he needed to instigate and press when all she desired was to leave in peace. But his hands cupped the side of her face before she could ask, thumbs rubbing against her cheeks in a reserved gentleness she never experienced with him. He looked like he wanted to talk, to say something to her; she held her breath, waiting to hear it. This version of him, this softer Rylen, it left him unpredictable and her unsteady. She knew how to deal with the rude, brash Rylen, how to handle that dynamic between them.

Her stomach twisted as though poked through with knives. This, she wanted to say, this was why she requested the transfer. That whatever silenced his tongue and made him look like her leaving hurt him, that wasn’t what she signed on for. It held them both back from their work, when she knew they could both grow outside of each other’s presence. 

And maybe he knew that, which was why he stayed silent. Maybe he recognized the favor she did for them both by leaving. His lips found hers, no sense of urgency, none of the harshness reserved for their secret couplings over the past two years, He kissed her and she could taste the longing on his tongue, the goodbye he kept locked inside his throat, as if saying the words would crack this fragile thing left between them. She closed her eyes to it, letting it consume her, imagining for just one moment that she stayed behind to fix the Circle with him. 

But then he withdrew, stooping to pick up his greaves off the ground and slip them back on. He didn’t stop to glance at her as he exited the tent. When she reached up to rub at her cheeks where only a moment before his touch warmed her chilled cheeks, she found them wet with her tears. What that meant, only the Maker knew. 

Clearing her throat, she turned back to her clipboard and the task ahead. Kirkwall would wait for no one. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this makes sense and I'm not skipping around too much.


End file.
